"Exactly. Your brain pattern is constantly being received by one of your father's greatest inventions--the sigma brainwave pickup. Your father began working on another modification of that device seventeen years ago--a sigma brainwave _sender_. A device that could impress one person's sigma signal upon the brain of another. A hypnotic, telepathic control, capable of controlling the mind of anyone, over almost any distance. Can you imagine what a device like that would be worth? What it would mean in terms of power?" He looked at the girl. "Ah, I see you understand." "Not completely," said Nikki, "Where is this device?" "Ah," said the fat man. "That is a lovely story in itself. But, physically, the device--and the data on it--are in your father's spaceship." "Then it was destroyed seventeen years ago," said the girl. "No, indeed," said Van Ostrand. He gazed up at the ceiling as though he could gaze through it. "You father had _two_ ships, my dear. One has been vaporized for nearly two decades; the other is up there somewhere, invisible and indetectable, in a satellite orbit around Earth. At precisely twenty-five seconds past three, an electronic mechanism will be activated in this house by that clock on the wall. That mechanism, in turn, will activate a corresponding device in your father's ship, if it is within range, and automatically land the ship here." North laughed. "Only instead of landing here, he'll land at the spot we designate instead. Because five seconds before this signal is sent, our man will send a different signal keyed to another spot. The ship will come down, and we will have imm--" "North!" the fat man bellowed. Because Nikki had suddenly leaped to her feet and run toward the clock. She was trying to move the second hand with her head, since her hands were locked with magnetic cuffs. It didn't do any good; the steel hand went on; unperturbed. * * * * * Bob North grabbed her by the hair and jerked her to the floor. Giles Jackson was on his feet, his gun aimed at her head. "No, Giles!" Van Ostrand snapped. Then, to the girl: "That was damnably stupid of you. In the first place, you might have been killed--accidentally. In the second place, that clock is automatically corrected every minute. It wouldn't do you any good to push it to an incorrect time, because it would be readjusted at the end of the minute. Watch." He pointed. The hand was nearing twelve. It passed it. Then, suddenly, it jerked back to twelve as the mechanism corrected it, and then went on again. "North," said the fat man, "handcuff the wench to the sofa. We can't have any more of this." North dragged her roughly across the floor and followed the fat man's orders. Giles Jackson settled himself to his seat again and lit another cigarette. I had listened silently all the time, and I figured I'd heard almost enough--but not quite. I kept hoping that Nikki would ask more questions.